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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044183">The Way To Do It Right</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatLife/pseuds/fouryearslaterdrabbles'>fouryearslaterdrabbles (CheshireCatLife)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fables (Willingham) - All Media Types, Fables - Willingham, Fables: The Wolf Among Us (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comic Spoilers, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, I probably made Bigby way too nice, POV Bigby, Romance, Slow Romance, Spoilers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and Snow way too nice too, but it's shameless fluff okay?, this fandom may be dead but I'll still contribute, this is so cheesy even I'm kind of ashamed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:08:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatLife/pseuds/fouryearslaterdrabbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bigby and Snow have a relationship of forgone opportunities. It’s wearing, even tiring, and the moment they finally give in, the world spins on its axis, as it always seems to. Now they must try and tilt it back the right way. And really, if anyone could spin the world on its axis, it would be them.</p><p>(A passive-aggressive title to a story about love and hope and the journey it takes from start to end, whilst happily fixing the error Willingham made.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Snow White/Bigby Wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Way To Do It Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is so cheesy I'm ashamed but these two deserve having contributions to their fandom so here I am. Enjoy!</p><p>[un-beta'd and unedited as of right now because, well, I'm lazy]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trees trembled under his gaze, in some ways literal as their crushed faces shrank in fear. His fear was stifling in the heat but caught the breeze well, making his back look like an ocean of movement, even in the cover of darkness. The moonlight shone brighter from above and silver-lit stars pooled in the water ahead of him in a myriad of tiny dots. It would have been beautiful had the beast been capable of knowing such a thing. Instead, he leapt past the large pool of water easily, hit feet hitting the ground with low thuds. He continued to run, paws creating craters in their wake, leaving nothing on his mind but the next hunt.</p><p>It was easier that way.</p><p>Much easier.</p><p>Too many other things to think about. Wasn’t worth thinking about the Empire’s rise, or how they were filling forests with larger and larger towns. At this rate, he was going to have to start attacking cities. Even someone like him didn’t particularly like razing cities.</p><p>So he continued on, through forests and elsewhere, skirting around the edges of humanity. He didn’t want a meal just yet. No, he wanted to find somewhere he could do a proper hunt, where he could run for miles and never have to stop. He didn’t want to lure his prey into safe areas, he wanted the cover of darkness and the adrenaline of his prey’s fear.</p><p>His thoughts were cut short far too soon. Beyond the lake and through the next dozen fields, there was nothing, but on the last stretch, just when he was starting to sniff around for his night’s feast, something attacked him. Or, well, not attacked, there was nothing physical-</p><p>But for a moment, he thought it was.</p><p>But no. It was a smell. Something strong; sweet. Something far better than dinner could ever be. Not a smell he wanted to eat. Something he wanted to smell forever, like a dessert too beautiful to eat, where you’d be perfectly happy to just sit there and smell it, watch it but never taste it, never ruin its form.</p><p>Except it smelt painfully human.</p><p>His wolf form shrank, just enough to perfectly blur him into the shadows (if not, that was, for the amber gleam of his eyes that shone even in the darkness). Stalking as carefully as he would near hiding prey, he carefully kept near the trees to analyse the disturbance. If this was the Empire again he was going to-</p><p>This was <em>his</em> territory.</p><p>He pushed down a disturbed snarl and finally found a corner of light that gave him a good view of what was happening: a chain line. One of the Empire’s, that much was clear. Human and beast alike chained in a line, stalking through the forests on the way to their fate. Whether they would survive would be a test of fates and determination but even if they survived, they would be led to a dire fate. The wolf knew enough about the Empire’s machinations to know that being in the chain meant nothing good.</p><p>Then he saw her.</p><p>Behind a glum red-head and ahead of a lowly-looking male peasant stood a woman of such…</p><p>Not beauty, no that wasn’t it. Especially not in this state. And, on top of that, she was human and the Wolf, much to his knowledge, did not feel attraction to the rather average looking creatures. (Then again, he hadn’t ever paid attention to many female wolves. They were all rather…small).</p><p>It was the smell. And the sight only solidified his previous thoughts. Her smell masked the other olfactory weapons; the smell of rose deafened the smell of dirt and blood and shit. Her sight was the same. Although it was not beautiful what he was looking at, he couldn’t stop looking regardless. She was everything. She became his world in a moment.</p><p>That was the moment the Wolf became Bigby, even before he was ever turned into a man.</p><p>Carefully, almost cautiously, he lowered himself down so his muzzle was level with the floor and let a slow, buzzing growl travel through the earth, shuddering it’s very surface. The effect was instant, a flurry of soldiers turned to him and flew towards him, all weapons raised.</p><p>He ate them.</p><p>All of them.</p><p>No remorse. That was no the way of the Wolf. (But maybe, just maybe, it was the way of Bigby Wolf. But who was to judge that?)</p><p>The prisoners looked on in horror but the woman’s face stayed calm. Her alabaster skin was unmoving, unscarred by worry. Even her raven hair, previously tangled into a mess, did not move from its place. As the Wolf, calm and curious, bit through the chains of the formation, she did not fear.</p><p>Instead, she picked up a sword and aimed it at his neck. Bathed in moonlight and lit up by stars, she was an avenging angel on a dark night, pointing a dull sword at a demigod’s neck. It was then that the wolf smiled.</p><p>He had met his match.</p><p>~*~</p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake, Snow, will you just listen to me?”</p><p>“You have nothing I want to hear, Bigby, now go back to your shitty apartment and leave me in peace.”</p><p>“Stop being stubborn! We should talk about this!”</p><p>“Since when?” She spat, spinning on the balls of her feet, meeting his eyes as steely as she had all those years ago. Her hair wasn’t a mess anymore; it’s raven locks were pulled tightly into a conservative bun. She no longer wore rags, but Mundy work attire. No matter what, though, she was just as much at the avenging angel now as she was then. “Huh? Since when? This is my problem to deal with-“</p><p>“It is <em>my</em> child,” he snarled, before taking stock of himself. Taking a step back, he lowered his voice, keeping it just above as a whisper as he added, “I just want to help.”</p><p>“There is nothing to help with,” she spat and stalked into the business office, never once looking back.</p><p>~*~</p><p>He had six children: six adorable, young children. Six small, sweet children that he wasn’t even allowed to see. That he wasn’t allowed to be <em>near</em>. They were off to the Farm, the one place on this god-forsaken planet that he couldn’t go to.</p><p>He could even go to fucking Bangladesh and he’d got caught up in a Mundy murder scandal, escaping before they could decide either way whether he was innocent or guilty (if the bribes were anything to go by, it was definitely the latter, despite to knowing next to nothing about the event at all).</p><p>Bigby had fled. Not to Bangladesh, of course, but to any corner of the world he could possibly live in where he could drown his sorrows in liquor and pump enough smokes that eventually the scent of his children would fade from his mind. The west coast did the job, although the smell lingered in his memory, so he’d quickly moved on, fled to other continents. He’d gone back to Europe for a bit and cursed at the ugly trees that reminded him of wars fought too long ago and then stayed in England for a bit and paid homage to a fallen soldier that no one seemed to care about anymore. Afterwards, his frown permeating as he noticed that the bar didn’t have the same name anymore, he’d gotten onto a plane at Heathrow and flown to Australia.</p><p>The expanse of free land had the wolf howling but the heat had it cowering away and soon Bigby was on a plane again, this time to Africa. The heat was possibly worse. In the end, he ended up back in America, having decided that living in Antarctica was a step too far. Despite the far-stretching land, it lacked food, warmth and the usual human comforts Bigby had become accustomed to.</p><p>He ended up in Oregon, living in a city he didn’t know the name of and didn’t want to learn. It was easier if he pretended it was in New York State and if you ignored the general Western look, it wasn’t too hard.</p><p>He was only a walk away, he told himself as he slummed it back to his crummy apartment. He’d tried to be the wolf for so long (it was so much easier to forget as the wolf, so much; easier to hide too) that he landed himself in such an implacably human situation. Let them find him, he thought, at least then maybe they’d drag him to his kids before they decided to throw him in with the rest of the forgotten Fables.</p><p>One day, he thought, he’d probably snap and go into the Farm anyway. Soon enough, he’d let them riot if it meant he could see them. For now, he held out hope for a compromise. Years with his children without burden. But the longer time dragged on, the less likely the chance appeared.</p><p>He found no answers in the bottom of his whiskey glass.</p><p>He never had.</p><p>The bar was drab, the lights casting a low light on the otherwise shadowed bar. The wooden bar-tops were fake and his nails caught uncomfortable in the rough surface. His fault, really, for the digging his nails in to start with but the odd stretching sensation of his nail beds distracted him from…other thoughts. The chatter was light but loud, with only a few people’s voices carrying through the small space. It was fairly empty, as it usually was on a Monday night, but still comfortably full. He let his ears draw him into foreign conversations, listening inanely to a pair of friends talk about their marriage troubles (well at least they <em>were</em> married. Look at where he was).</p><p>He called the bartender back and ordered another whiskey as the door creaked open. As usual, his eyes slid to the ajar door, taking in the person on the other side. The bar was a pretty crumby one on the edge of the state, usually drawing in truckers and angry-looking old men that were just begging for a fight, but on the other side of the door was a silhouette of a woman. The darkness outside did nothing to light up her figure, only revealing that she was of medium height (for female standards, anyway) with a slender figure.</p><p>It was the smell that gave her away.</p><p>Bigby froze, his nails giving way just slightly to claws, leaving the imprint of his fingertips on the bar-top. He didn’t dare move, though, leaving his muscles painfully bunched, his shoulders hunched like it was enough to hide him.</p><p>He honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go or run and never look back.</p><p>When he finally turned around, it was like looking at an angel. The dull, amber light caught on her black hair, giving it a glossy shine he couldn’t remember it having before. The clothes she wore were simple but enticing; just jeans and a t-shirt, in the usual mix of black and blue. And she stood tall, her shoulders back, her face stubborn, and just as ready to go into battle as she had been at the muzzle of the Big Bad Wolf, pointing a useless sword at his neck.</p><p>History really did like to repeat itself.</p><p>“Snow,” he finally whispered, surprised by just how hoarse his voice sounded. He knew he’d been quiet this last year but he didn’t know how obvious it would be. He wondered how haggard he looked, whether the bags under his eyes were as obvious as the felt, whether she could see that he hadn’t had a haircut in over three months (and at his rate, it was enough to be hanging down around his shoulders). Did she see that he had dirt under his fingernails? Did she smell that he probably hadn’t showered since last week, covering his own musk with the smell of cigarette smoke?</p><p>Shit, he needed one now. And, of course, because that was just how life was, he didn’t have them on him. (The one fucking time. The <em>only</em> time!)</p><p>“Bigby,” she sighed diplomatically, her stubborn face falling into something more…anxious. Or maybe just resigned. The difference between the two was small with Snow. She learnt to temper her expressions a long time ago. Even her smell held between the two. He couldn’t parse it. He never could, not as clearly as he could fear (or happiness) anyway.</p><p>“Where are the…where at the kids?”</p><p>“With Red. Just for the week. Some others are helping too. It’s quite a lot with the…six of them.” Bigby’s eyes widened. There weren’t six? Did one die? Oh god, maybe he let one of his cubs- “We have a lot to talk about.”</p><p>“Yes, we do. But not here.”</p><p>“No. Do you have a place nearby?” He did. He really didn’t want her to see it.</p><p>“How about a motel room?”</p><p>She seemed to understand his dilemma and didn’t seem all that disappointed (after all, she had seen his apartment at the Woodlands too). “Yeah, of course.” Silence descended, lingering motionless as Bigby gulped down the double shot of whiskey, wincing at the acrid taste in his throat, and stood up. They stood an awkward metre apart but Bigby didn’t dare cross the cavern, not until they’d talked more.</p><p>It took half an hour for them to find a motel that was suitable for both their tastes (cheap but not disgusting) and had them sitting opposite each other on two distinctly uncomfortable twin beds, the small lamp flickering with an irritatingly loud buzz beside them. A fly kept bashing into the window but neither stood up to let it out.</p><p>“So,” Snow started, raising a perfectly kept eyebrow. “How have you been?”</p><p>“Pretty shit. You?”</p><p>“It’s been…mixed.”</p><p>“How are the…how are the kids?”</p><p>“They’re great. Really. All doing great.”</p><p>“But you said…with the six…”</p><p>“Oh god, no, I meant, god this is a long story. There’s, well, there’s a seventh.”</p><p>Bigby paused, frowning. “I would have thought you’d known whether you gave birth to a seventh child.”</p><p>“Well, that’s the thing. He’s (it’s?) a Zephyr. His name is Ghost. Say hi Ghost.”</p><p>“Dada!”</p><p>Bigby almost flew backwards, holding onto his dignity with his grip on the bedsheets, tearing at the thin cotton as his nails protruded into them once again (goddamit, he needed better control on the wolf if he was going to get through the night alive). “Um, hi…Ghost.”</p><p>“So…”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“But they’re all fine. Really. They’re…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“They’re flying. I think it might the whole magic from my side.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“You don’t seem surprised?”</p><p>“No. It’s just…that’s not from your side. I’m…kinda the son of the North Wind?”</p><p>“You’re what?”</p><p>“My mother was a wolf but my father was a shapeshifter. The North Wind.”</p><p>“Like the god?”</p><p>“Yes. That one.”</p><p>“And you didn’t think to mention that?”</p><p>“I tried to kill him seven times.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah, we don’t get on.”</p><p>“Because…?”</p><p>“He left my mother to die. Abandoned her. It’s kinda…well, it’s the reason for my past. Eating…humans, gave me abilities. To kill him.”</p><p>“But you failed?”</p><p>“On the latest attempt, yes.”</p><p>“You’re planning another?”</p><p>“In time.”</p><p>“Your children’s grandfather?”</p><p>“Well, they haven’t exactly met him.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t they, though? They’re not going to meet either of my parents. Nor my stepmother, for that matter. Your father is the only other family they have left, other than Rose.”</p><p>“Can we talk about this another time?”</p><p>“Is this not a good time?” She drawled, the furrow between her eyebrows suggesting, as usual, that she thought he was an idiot.</p><p>“I wanted to talk about…other things.” Fuck, this was awkward. And was he supposed to make Ghost go away? Should he have been here for this? After all, this was his kid. Right? Fuck, he didn’t know, he was letting Snow take the lead. For the most part, anyway.</p><p>“What other things?”</p><p>“Um…” oh fuck, did he really have to say it out loud?</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Us?”</p><p>“You want to talk about us?” Snow deadpanned, unimpressed.</p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>“Ghost, could you go back to your siblings?”</p><p>“Ya!” A rush of air passed through the room before it emptied.</p><p>“How well can…<em>he</em> speak?”</p><p>“He can understand my instructions. He’s not so good at forming words but he’s getting there. They all are. If anything, the competition is really rushing them.”</p><p>“It <em>is</em> going to be a lot of competition.”</p><p>“Yeah, it is, but it’ll be good for them,” Snow stated, with all the conviction she held in all her views. “Now, you said you wanted to talk about us.”</p><p>Did he really have to go first?</p><p>“Yes.” Snow raised an eyebrow. Great, so he really was going to go first. “Um,” Bigby stopped and collected his words. He wasn’t one for hesitancy, only stoicism, but something about this situation had him fumbling. Snow <em>always</em> had him fumbling. Even after centuries of human life, he had never quite gotten used to the effort that human socialisation took, but courtship even less, <em>crushes</em> even less. In so many things, he let the wolf guide him, using his human side to keep his morals in check with what was expected of him nowadays, but in love - in <em>any</em> romance - that just didn’t work.</p><p>He couldn’t exactly go up and lick her face and declare them mates.</p><p>No, there was subtlety and selflessness and <em>self-care</em> (god, it would mean he had to shave again). And on top of this, it meant he would become a true father. Maybe from afar, maybe not so much, but he would have to take his role seriously. No being the runaway father his own father was. No, he’d step up and have to try for them too.</p><p>Honestly, it was too much.</p><p>He powered on regardless. “I’ve cared for you for a long time,” he blurted, avoiding the ‘l’ word like a plague. “I want to be a father to my cubs. I want…to be something to you. Before all this, we were going to give it a shot. I want to try. Just…try.”</p><p>Snow stared at him, too many seconds to be natural, before finally breathing out a quiet, “me too.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yes, of course.” She smiled something sad and continued. “This past year has been hard. I want the cubs to have a father. And doing this by myself, with <em>seven</em> of them? It’s really hard. But…I’m not throwing myself into this headfirst,” Snow declared, face as stubborn and set as she had walked in with, “I want to be careful.” Not a surprise; Snow was about as spur of the moment as a statue. She’d locked her heart behind thick walls, hiding the small, dark cracks that had already fractured it.</p><p>“Me too,” Bigby admitted. It was true. He’d never been in a relationship before. He’d had one night stands, once or twice, but even that he rarely had time for. Detective work wasn’t all that interesting but it was painfully time-consuming, especially with the lack of technology Fabletown had decided to possess in its government offices.</p><p>“I had made a plan-“</p><p>“And you were judging me for bringing us up?” Bigby snorted.</p><p>“I plan for all eventualities. Now, back to my plan. You’re still not allowed back on the Farm and I can’t bring the cubs to Fabletown yet, at least not all of them. But I want you to see them and help them with their…wolf side. So, I was thinking about planning some Skype sessions. It’s not the same but it’s a start.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Really.”</p><p>Bigby smiled wide and tried to cover it up behind his hand. He was going to see his pups! Maybe not in person, but he was really going to see them.</p><p>“Now, they’re still young but I need to catch you up on all of them. As far as they know, you’re just working away from home. They’re still very young so they don’t really understand but we can use that to advantage, okay?”</p><p>Bigby hesitated. “This all sounds absolutely brilliant, Snow, really, but this isn’t about us.”</p><p>“I’m getting to it,” she replied sharply, “but that’s where the first point comes in. The cubs come first in this, got it?”</p><p>“Always.”</p><p>“But I also want to try this thing between us away from them, in case of…certain outcomes.” Always protecting her heart. Clever, if nothing else. “So, I was thinking, if you moved back to Fabletown, I could take Friday night’s off from the Farm, have Rose mind the kids, and go on a few dates?” As hard as she tried, it was still phrased as a question, uncertain even with the facade of unwavering, well, certainty.</p><p>“That would be brilliant. Really.”</p><p>“So you’d move back to Fabletown?”</p><p>“Not as the Sheriff.”</p><p>“No, Beast has taken that role now. Just to live there.”</p><p>“I-“ He stopped. What reasons did he have not to go back? It was Snow, the cubs, that had driven him so far away to begin with. Now, they were drawing him back. He had nothing to lose. It was not like he had anything here in Oregon. But he had to check one thing. “Last time we talked, you were mad. Really mad. What changed?”</p><p>This time, Snow stumbled too. Her eyes draw to the small window in the space between them, the fluttering curtains waving in the soft breeze. It wasn’t a pleasant view, showing off a dirty brick wall directly opposite them, but Snow stared at it like it was fascinating.</p><p>“I was mad. But it wasn’t logical. I just…can you remember that night? The one…in the tent.”</p><p>“No. Can you?”</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>“It’s like…you wouldn’t understand but try to here. You know date rape? That they put drugs in your drink and you blackout and you don’t wake up until the deed was done? It was like that. And I know that wasn’t you, not at all. And I don’t blame you. But I was angry and scared and…I needed someone to aim it at, seeing as Bluebeard was already gone. And that someone was you. I don’t like how I treated you and I regret it now but I didn’t know what else to do. Sometimes it’s so much easier to run away than to stay and fight for something.” She bit her lip, blinking back welling tears. Bigby stared at her, sniffing out the underlying scent of agony and winced.</p><p>He couldn’t even begin to imagine how she felt. He almost felt like he ought to have been feeling the same feelings but all he had felt was some sort of elation that Snow had finally accepted his advances. He hadn’t given what happened in the tent two thoughts. Enough so that he’d even lied to Snow when she’d asked about it-</p><p>“But I do want to ask,” she added, “why did you lie to me? About what happened. You would have known, I know you would, you can smell anything.”</p><p>“I didn’t want you to be angry. I thought if neither of us could remember, it was the same as it not happening.”</p><p>“Except it came with consequences.”</p><p>“Yes. And I’m sorry. If I’d known-“</p><p>“It’s past us now. I’ve had time to think about it and I forgive you. I don’t entirely understand your logic but I forgive you anyway. I want to try this. For the cubs. For <em>us</em>.”</p><p>Finally, she met Bigby’s eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. For the first time, Bigby thought he was seeing the <em>real</em> Snow. Behind all the protections and the composure and the steadfast <em>knowing</em>, Snow really was just as terrified as he was. The future <em>was</em> goddamn terrifying, even more so as a human than anything else.</p><p>But at least now, he thought, they could try it together.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The Skype ringtone grated his nerves as much as it sparked them. Snow had already gone through an in-depth description of each of his children, telling him their likes and dislikes, how much they had progressed since they were born, what their personalities were. He’d memorised it so he could recite it like a child excited to play their part in the school recital. Now, all that was left was to finally meet them.</p><p>He was meeting his children for the first time - properly, anyway, not in the hospital - <em>online</em>. It was as odd as it was new.</p><p>New York rang just as loudly as around him, the usual cacophony of senses bombarding each and every aspect of his person, but still, he kept his eyes focused on the screen as the small white dots faded in and out.</p><p>“HI, DADDY!” Six voices chimed, a blur of voices crossing the screen as they scrambled over each other to get closer, leading to Bigby being able to see about as much as three pixels of one of his children’s face.</p><p>Snow could be heard in the background, herding them all back to a reasonable position so they could say hi properly. Once found, although the children were still fidgeting like they had fireworks under them, Bigby finally gave them a soft smile and a wave. “Hi, everyone, it’s so nice to see you.” He sounded stunted at best but he was still doing better than he ought to have done. These were his kids, for god’s sake.</p><p>“Where you?” The girl - that must be Therese - asked.</p><p>“Um, I’m in New York right now.” Was he supposed to be using (what was it?) baby speak or something. He felt like he was trying to have an adult conversation with someone decidedly not adult. He sighed. “Not far from you,” he added.</p><p>“Come home!” Another shouted - Dare? He thought that one was Dare, anyway.</p><p>He frowned. “I can’t right now. There’s…some other things I have to do. But soon, okay?” A chorus of frantically happy nods answered him and in the darkness of his apartment, though he would never admit it to a soul, he felt the first springing of tears behind his eyes.</p><p>Snow’s face was blurry in the screen but she was smiling too, looking amongst his - <em>their</em> - children with unmitigated wonder. Then and there, she looked like everything he had ever wanted.</p><p>Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Friday came quickly. Too quickly. Bigby had all of twenty minutes to get to the address Snow had given him on their Wednesday Skype session and he hadn’t even managed to choose an outfit.</p><p>This would be their first date. A couple of centuries of later and it was finally happening. Last Friday had been spent moving to New York, meaning it had only been almost two weeks since he’d seen Snow again. It felt entirely too long whilst also impossibly short.</p><p>Frantic, he grabbed the first clean shirt he spotted and put it with his usual pants. Tonight, he’d forego the trench coat (just this once) and he’d maybe iron his shirt. Maybe. Did he have an iron? Was it awkward if he asked Beauty? Probably.</p><p>He would have one around here somewhere.</p><p>He rifled through the cupboard, sniffing like a dog even though he had absolutely no way of identifying an iron or anything else useful. He could scent out metal, sure, but just about everything in this godforsaken world was metal - if it wasn’t plastic - so he wasn’t having much luck.</p><p>He opened cupboards he wished he hadn’t and now he had a pile of miscellaneous appliances on the floor. Honestly, he didn’t even understand why they were still here. Technically, this was his old apartment but they would have put it on offer for some other poor Fable whilst he was gone. Or apparently, they hadn’t. It was completely untouched. (Was it <em>that</em> disgusting?)</p><p>An iron!</p><p>In his musings, his eyes had finally found the broken down instrument under a pair of bongo drums (okay, what the fuck?) and a few old t-shirts that he never wore anymore. It was rusted, old and would probably do something untold to his shirt but it was better than the crumpled mess in his hand.</p><p>He hadn’t worn a shirt since he was sheriff (that felt like so long ago) but it had remained in his pack, like some sort of bastardised memento that constantly reminded him of what he left behind. Now, he’d use it to reflect a new start. If he could just get this goddam iron to work.</p><p>Not long left now before he <em>had</em> to leave.</p><p>Shirtless, he ran the iron desperately over the shirt, starting at the collar and working his way down. It was when he reached the bottom that the iron finally decided to give up and burn a hole right through it. The fabric was intact, just about, but it had singed to a dirty brown, looking not far off a tea-stain but somehow much worse.</p><p>Great. So much for new starts.</p><p>He didn’t have time for this.</p><p>He put the shirt on. A jacket would cover it, right? Desperate now, he found an old, ill-fitting blazer in the back of his wardrobe, threw it over the half-ruined shirt and ran out the door with nothing but his keys and wallet in hand. Leave it to Bigby Wolf to ruin the first impression on a date.</p><p>Still, he got to the restaurant on time (barely) and sat in a seat before Snow arrived, tapping restlessly at the table. He missed his cigarettes but was glad he hadn’t brought them, he would have already lit one, using the action to calm his barely trembling hands.</p><p>Look at this: the Big Bad Wolf shaking in the face of a date with a beautiful woman. More scared now than he was when he’d razed a village. Funny how things turned out like that.</p><p>He knew exactly the moment she walked in the door but tried not to whip his head up, carefully manoeuvring it so he could see her enter. Unlike the night in the dingy bar, the restaurant was well-lit: a fancy place that sold over-priced Italian food that was perfect for a date. Or so people said. Snow looked more like Snow than ever under the scrutiny. Composed, perfected and standing tall, she glided in on kitten heels, a short blue dress hanging loose from her body. A style reminiscent of the 60s, Bigby thought, though he didn’t think Snow had worn anything similar back then. For a woman looking after six/seven children, she didn’t give it away. She could have walked straight out of a magazine; her hair perfectly straightened and her makeup professional.</p><p>Bigby wondered if he had lost a few seconds because soon she was in front of him, waiting expectantly. Remembering his manners (or at least his Fable ones), he hurried to his feet and planted a careful kiss on her hand. “You look amazing, Snow,” he admitted earnestly, doing his best to look princely, knowing that he had entirely failed from the moment she’d seen him.</p><p>Bigby wasn’t one to care what others thought yet under Snow’s scrutiny, he felt like an awkward teenager. It was probably his biggest downfall. The Big Bad Wolf, unable to play the part of handsome price. And good luck standing next to Prince Charming, her <em>goddamn ex-husband</em>, whilst looking anything more than inferior.</p><p>Except, when she finally looked him up and down, something kind quirked the corners of her lips and she even let something akin to a smile slide in place. “You too, Bigby. You cleaned up.”</p><p>“Um, well,” he looked down at himself and thought that at least from this vantage point he couldn’t see the large brown stain on the back, because apart from that, he was doing a little better than usual. A little. He’d done better at the balls before, he knew that, but that was when he hadn’t been so <em>worried</em>.</p><p>Goddamit, sometime over the last year and a bit, he’d become a coward.</p><p>“You looked terrified,” Snow stated, standing somewhere between worried and humoured, before she sat down on the seat opposite and carefully watched his every move. Which was to say that he was almost copying her; it could be that bad could it? He could only mess up then if <em>she</em> messed up.</p><p>He was thinking about this too much.</p><p>“No. It’s just…it’s been a while, okay?” He admitted, rather forcefully, like she was already halfway through with her interrogation and he had just started to spill the secrets. Instead, she sat calmly, hands clasped together over the table (Bigby had copied yet under the table in some vain attempt to seem more normal), her perfectly painted, blue nails somehow the centre of his attention despite the cacophony around them ready to catch his every attention.</p><p>“It’s been a while for me too,” she confided carefully (<em>kindly</em>, he reminded himself, though the distinction between the two still felt so fragile). “How about we just act like we usually do, okay? You can be your usual stubborn self and I can be…well, I can be me.”</p><p>“But what if you hate my usual self?” He blurted before he could even think of the stupidity of that entire statement.</p><p>She laughed, although not unkindly, but in the way that women often did when a man did something both amusing and entirely, unutterably stupid. “Then why would I be here?” She said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”</p><p>Bigby said nothing but finally unclasped his fingers, awkward leaning an elbow on the table, his head pressing uncomfortably into his fist, with the other hand tapping rapidly at his leg. “So,” he tried again, eyes drifting to the window, despite Snow’s attempts to make eye contact (fuck, this was bad), “how are the kids?”</p><p>Snow continued on like he wasn’t being an awful human being. “They’re doing absolutely great. They’ve been ecstatic since Wednesday, although they keep saying they want you <em>home</em>.”</p><p>“We’ll find a way,” Bigby said stubbornly, all awkwardness forgotten. “Even if I have to-“</p><p>“Easier not to think about it yet.” Though she didn’t tell him no. “But really, they already love you.”</p><p>His smile was soft and timid. “I’m glad.” In his mind, he almost thought about telling her about how worried he’d been, how he wanted so desperately for them to like him, but held it back. She’d said act <em>normal</em> and spilling his guts was decidedly not normal. And anyway, he didn’t think he actually wanted to tell her, it was just something there that felt like it was telling him he <em>ought</em> to.</p><p>“So how have you been? What have you being up to this past year?”</p><p>“Not much,” he shrugged, “well, I started on the West Coast…”</p><p>In his spiel, he forgot it had ever been awkward at all.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Next Friday came with a lot less timidness and far more gifts. He’d picked something out for each of the cubs and another, far more precious, gift for Snow. He’d wrapped it up as delicately as he could with his clumsy hands and ordered a bouquet of a dozen roses, which suddenly seemed far too ostentatious when he held them in his hand, walking out of The Woodlands.</p><p>“That’s some mighty roses you’ve got there,” Flycatcher said from his post. No one seemed to comment that despite being a heroic king now, he still regularly turned up at the Woodlands to mop.</p><p>“Giving a try at romance. For once.”</p><p>“Well, good luck,” Fly said with a beaming smile, “you deserve it, Bigby.” Without another word, he blinked out of existence, like the very idea of remaining after complimenting the Big Bad Wolf was a death sentence. If had been anyone but Fly, there would have been a good chance of it. He didn’t like people knowing his business. At the very least, he hadn’t commented on the other ten bags Bigby was woefully carrying, that even <em>his</em> muscles were struggling under.</p><p>Anything for the kids.</p><p>He trekked outside and hailed a cab. They were meeting in a less formal place this time - something more like a diner, he’d been assured on Wednesday - although Bigby had never been. Snow was in charge for the moment and Bigby couldn’t help but be a little grateful. He’d struggled enough with getting presents, never mind trying to produce a date too. At least if Snow didn’t like the gifts, she’d hide it. If she didn’t like the <em>date</em>, well, Bigby didn’t believe he would last the night.</p><p>The cab ride was longer than he’d hoped, which allowed him both the time to worry fretfully about how awful his gifts were and to get himself together before seeing Snow again.</p><p>When he arrived, he slapped some unaccounted amount of money in the taxi driver’s hand and rushed out, grabbing his bags in one handful (bad decision). He could already see Snow at the entrance, waiting patiently as she fiddled with her blackberry, no doubt fretting about leaving the kids at home. Despite last Friday’s success, she had admitted that she was worried about leaving them for so long. Bigby had agreed to cut things short if need be but Snow was nothing if not stubborn.</p><p>Rose would handle it. Probably.</p><p>Bigby honestly wasn’t all that sure. But if Snow trusted her, so did he.</p><p>“Snow,” he called out, mustering as much of a smile as he could these days (which was, admittedly, wider than usual) and waved with his free hand.</p><p>“Bigby,” she said with her own smile, her eyes pointedly travelling down to the bags. “What’s this?”</p><p>“Presents. For the cubs. And you. I thought I-“</p><p>“You don’t need to explain everything,” she said in faux exasperation. “But thank you. That’s really nice.” He preened at the praise, trying to let only a small bit of it show on his face, as he dragged the bags inside, Snow on his right, her hand resting calmly on his forearm. He suddenly became all too aware of that one point, like it was all his mind could think about it. It wasn’t like he could feel much, not through his shirt, but his focus just couldn’t move. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the reason but it was like-</p><p>“Bigby?”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He sat down, putting the bags under the table, eyes a little too wide. “What did you say?”</p><p>She laughed gently. “Nothing. You just looked…far away. You alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. More than.”</p><p>“Good to hear.” She smiled, a dimple creasing a single cheek, the smallest of imperfections that yet again caught Bigby’s attention like he had a supernova exploding before him. “So, no burnt shirt this time?”</p><p>He grimaced. “You saw that?”</p><p>“You didn’t wear your jacket to the bathroom. It was funny.”</p><p>“I…” he stopped, mulling over the admission. “Apparently it’s been a while since I’ve used an iron.”</p><p>She laughed again and something in Bigby loosened. This was comfortable, <em>more than</em>. The conversation wasn’t perfect, nor was it riveting, but it was easy and light, something he could never have imagined. He and Snow had always butted heads; excitingly, sure, but there had only ever been this ease when they were both working towards the same goals. This felt like something else entirely.</p><p>“So, show me what’s in the bags.”</p><p>“Oh, right.” He brought one of the bags out from under the table and put it onto the booth next to him, rifling through its contents. “I got Dare a wolf kit. I know it looks stupid but it’s filled with things that will help them learn to hunt. He seemed really keen…if babies can really show that at all. Just place them around the house and have him search around the house for them, I used to love it as a kid-“</p><p>“He’ll love it,” Snow assured, still smiling (good sign) as she cut off Bigby’s rambling. Since when had he rambled? He’d had more nerves in the last two weeks than he’d had in the rest of his life combined. He was more anxious now than he had been on the verge of death.</p><p>“Um…I got Ambrose that book he was talking about. I think so anyway. Really, he just kept saying Caterpillar so I guessed. You don’t have it already, do you?”</p><p>“No, I don’t. Thank you.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Bigby dismissed. As much as he liked the praise, he was completely incompetent at receiving it. He was used to <em>knowing</em> he’d done the right thing, or at least pretending so. Situations like these really left him in the blank. Where had all the bravery gone? Where was the <em>bravado</em>?</p><p>Did kids really make everything change?</p><p>“Um, Blossom, I got…” he dug around the bag a bit more, “a stuffed wolf toy.” He decided finally to stop explaining the gifts and just took them out one by one. “I got Winter the Bob the Builder movie on VHS. I know how much she loves that show.”</p><p>Snow laughed. “I’m not going to see anything else for the rest of the week, I’m sure of it.”</p><p>“I got Therese a Barbie. The packaging said 3+ but I checked and it doesn’t have any small parts. It’s just the plain doll, no extra parts that she could choke on.”</p><p>“Much appreciated,” Snow said with an indecipherable smile. If Bigby had to guess, though, he’d say it might have been <em>fond</em>.</p><p>“Connor got…oh yeah, the mega blocks.”</p><p>“This is really nice, Bigby,” Snow said as he started packing the things back into the bag. “Seriously, thank you.”</p><p>“Well, I also got you some things,” Bigby said, smiling. Slowly, he reached for the other bag, trying to ignore the acceleration of his heart. “Hope you like them.”</p><p>Snow looked at him in surprise, although she obviously couldn’t tamper her smile as she collected the small three boxes. Honestly, by the time he’d bought six children presents (he had assumed that Ghost couldn’t really..receive gifts), it hadn’t really seemed like much more of a cost to splurge on Snow’s own presents.</p><p>“They should all match,” he added, as she opened them, her mouth hanging just slightly open.</p><p>“Oh my god, Bigby, they’re beautiful.” Inside the first box was a necklace with a thin silver chain and a large blue sapphire hanging on the end of it, the colour Snow so often seemed to favour. The next box was a matching ring, with small crystals embedded in the band that glistened when she moved it under the low lights. Finally, was a pair of low hanging earrings, made of beaded blue sapphire, the final complement to the triad. “Did you really choose these yourself?”</p><p>“I told the woman at the counter that you liked blue, she helped me out,” Bigby admitted, “but yeah, I chose them.”</p><p>“You are something else,” she said, cradling the necklace’s gemstone in her hand. “These are beautiful.”</p><p>“I’m glad you think so.”</p><p>“I would know that the <em>Big Bad Wolf</em> would know romance.”</p><p>He shrugged. “I don’t think I do.”</p><p>“Then you’re doing very well, Bigby, very well.”</p><p>All he could think was that she looked utterly beautiful under the light.</p><p>~*~</p><p>They kissed for the first time under a lamppost at midnight, just three weeks afterwards, their lips struggling as they smiled into it. Short and sweet but enough to finally say: we’ve done it.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Weeks passed, slowly then all too quickly, until time was like a waterfall, falling impossibly fast before his very eyes. It had been months now. Months of dates, casual and elaborate alike, and Skype calls with his kids. He was watching them grow; he watched them turn 2, sitting behind his laptop in his dingy apartment with the widest smile he’d had in centuries as they blabbered away over the computer screen, shouting both nonsense and oddly coherent sentences.</p><p>And he still wasn’t allowed back on the Farm.</p><p>He’d brought it up with Snow but she’d dismissed it for another day. Of course, she wanted to bring him home as much as he wanted to go. She wanted the kids to have a father - a real, present one - and she wanted Bigby in her life. But it was difficult, complicated, and she was still a politician at heart. Centuries of work didn’t just disappear like that. If she could have kept her job and looked after the cubs, she would have. And she knew, politically, that bringing Bigby to the Farm was dangerous at best and a tipping point at worst.</p><p>But Bigby was sick of waiting. He was sick of having Snow in his arms, talking about how amazing their kids were, and not being able to do the same with them. It was painful watching them babble in front of the camera, knowing it could be years until he could be there to really see it, to see it outside of allocated times. Of course, he was allowed to call just about anytime nowadays but it was still…forced. It had to be set up. It wasn’t like walking into the kitchen in the morning and sharing the same hazy grogginess. It was a performance. Or maybe it just felt like that.</p><p>So when Snow came back to his apartment the next Friday, Bigby finally brought it up again. “I want to sneak into the Farm.”</p><p>“We’ve talked about this-“</p><p>“I can sneak in, I can. They’ll never see me.”</p><p>“The cubs, they’re young, they wouldn’t be able to <em>hide</em> it, Bigby. They would find out.”</p><p>“Then bring them here. I just want to see them, Snow, just once. We could even get Fly to move them. They don’t need to be in the Mundy world for a second.”</p><p>Snow looked around and raised an eyebrow but the tension in her shoulders suggested she was taking on the idea. “Is this really a place for kids?”</p><p>“I’ll clean it. I’ll set up a pillow fort or something. Something they can sleep on. I’ll kid-proof it. Promise.”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“Just a night. A sleepover.”</p><p>Snow looked at him, perched on the armrest of the armchair as Bigby lay back into the soft leather. Her hand settled on his shoulder, fingers fiddling lightly with his shirt as she contemplated. “I’m helping you, though, there’s a lot more kid-proofing this place needs. And don’t forget, your kids can fly.”</p><p>Bigby threw his head back and heaved a sigh. “I admire you, Snow, I don’t know how you do it.”</p><p>“Well, hopefully one day you’ll be there to help me out. But we’ll try setting it up. <em>Try</em>, nothing else. You want to ask Fly?”</p><p>“I’ll speak to him the next time he’s around.”</p><p>“Good.” Snow smirked. “Now, there was something else I wanted to talk about.”</p><p>Somehow, that ended up being the second time they ever slept together.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Another two months passed before their plan came into action. Bigby had discussed it all with Flycatcher, whilst Snow had planned the whole situation with Rose and the kids. They spent the first month baby-proofing Bigby’s apartment, moving their Friday meet-ups to Friday <em>and</em> Tuesday (which Rose was surprisingly happy to accommodate) as to make sure there wasn’t anything (<em>anything</em>) that the kids could hurt themselves on whilst navigating around…distractions.</p><p>All in all, it was a happy time, driven by the countdown of the clock. Snow had started to relax and Bigby had finally let a few of his walls fall down, smiles coming easier to his face. His past still haunted him like a lingering shadow but it wasn’t a cloud and it had certainly stopped raining on him whenever he had enough time to sit down and think.</p><p>The second month was a race to the end. Bigby’s apartment was prepared and he was finally doing the upkeep on it to keep it clean. It had even gained a few ‘feminine’ touches, namely the small collection of plants on the windowsill and the actual ashtray on the table (although, no matter what, Snow was standing by her point of view that he would not smoke in front of the kids, even if second-hand smoke wasn’t a legitimate danger to them. She didn’t want them picking up the habit just because they wanted to imitate their dad). She’d even printed a few pictures, which he’d gotten framed himself and put by his bed and in the kitchen. One of Snow and the kids and the other of Snow and him on one of their many dates, Bigby in an actual, godforsaken tuxedo and Snow in a long, blue cocktail dress, the sparkles catching in the photographer’s flash.</p><p>It made the apartment feel a little more like home and for once, Bigby stopped seeing the apartment as a prison he came to at the end of the day to have nights of nightmares and torment. Now, he actually cooked (sometimes anyway, though it was still predominantly takeout) and made his bed in the morning.</p><p>Oh, and he actually had a bed now! The armchair could let out a sigh of relief as it stopped becoming Bigby’s permanent residence.</p><p>The apartment was a home now. A real home.</p><p>The kids were coming at 10 in the morning (too early, he had said, until Snow had informed him that the cubs were often up at five) and Bigby was trying to calm himself, scanning the room one last time to make sure everything was in place.</p><p>The knock on the door was a welcome relief. Bigby opened it probably all too quickly, smiling down at the gaggle of kids at his feet, Snow and Fly standing calmly at the back. For a second, there was silence.</p><p>“Is it really you?” Ambrose asked, squeezing one of his tiny fists in the other.</p><p>Bigby smiled. “Of course it is. Now, you gonna come give your dad a hug?” Beaming, Ambrose happily wiggled his way from the middle to the front, falling into Bigby’s arms with unbridled delight (a trait, Bigby learned, that only children could really possess). With Ambrose, the shyest of the lot, making his comfort obvious, the others piled on quickly. Questions attacked him on all sides but the second of desperate awkwardness had dissipated as fast as Bigby had realised it was there and he happily fielded the questions as honestly as he could in front of a bunch of two-year-olds.</p><p>“Are you and mummy gonna get married now?”</p><p>Bigby looked up, a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t know. Are we?”</p><p>“If this is your proposal, you’ll find it lacking,” Snow teased, though her smile had grown so wide that her lips almost reached her ears.</p><p>“Well, I don’t know what else you expected from me. So what do you say?”</p><p>Snow laughed, carefully combing a hand through Blossom’s hair, who now had her small body attached to Snow’s leg as she tried to get her mum’s attention. “I think the yes will come as soon as you get me a ring.”</p><p>“Deal,” he said, grinning like a madman. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this (had he ever felt like this?) but all he knew was that no matter what came next, he could get through it.</p><p>~*~</p><p>He proposed the next day, a glistening silver band on Snow’s finger, the white crystals shining as she examined it in the light. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him. “I don’t know if I ever said that before.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to. And, well, for the record, I love you too.”</p><p>~*~</p><p>The wedding couldn’t come until they’d sorted out the issue at the Farm. For now, Flycatcher was happy to travel back and forth but he wasn’t available all the time, or even that often, leaving stretches of time between visits that left Bigby as grumpy as his usual self. The other Fables had noticed it quickly and soon a setup of ‘Snow days’ was established.</p><p>If Bigby was in a good mood, it was because there had been a ‘Snow day’, which could constitute of him seeing Snow, his kids, or both. A ’sunny day’ meant he was his usual sunshine self, his stubble growing thick on his chin, the bags under his eyes reverting to their usual sacks and a cigarette between chapped lips. No one was quite sure if Bigby was aware of this system (he most definitely was) but the whispers still spread in the corridors.</p><p>Beware of sunny days became an oddly ironic expression within the corridors of the Woodlands.</p><p>Bigby didn’t care; he just wanted to see his family. So he got to work.</p><p>It wasn’t easy and it took another three months. Three months of sparse visits and a desperate to fill the time they did have together with activities. Three months of hiding his plans from Snow, carefully crafting lies in their Skype sessions as he tried to get a far-fetched plan to fall into place.</p><p>But in the end, it was worth it. By the time Summer was ending, Bigby had done it. A house, about forty minutes from the Farm, in upstate New York. It had warding from the thirteenth floor to deter unwanted Mundy’s (paid at a heavy price that he wasn’t going to divulge to Snow if he didn’t have to) and a large expanse of land for the kid’s to safely roam.</p><p>And more importantly, it had a perfect wedding venue at the top of the hill; a small abandoned chapel that Bigby had cleaned up himself, with a little help from Beauty and Beast.</p><p>He planned it all with Fly. They’d plan for the kids to come over, send Fly over to collect them but instead of bringing them to New York, he’d bring them here, where Bigby could finally show them around.</p><p>“You know the plan?” Bigby asked.</p><p>“It’s not exactly complicated,” Fly said with a kind smile. “I’ll be here in five minutes.” Bigby nodded and planted his feet to the ground. Pacing would only make him feel more anxious. Should he have told Snow about his plans? She liked to know plans. But she wasn’t <em>against</em> surprises (much anyway).</p><p>He needn’t have worried. He was too quickly distracted by the bombardment his kids met him with, the six of them piling onto him and asking as many questions as they had that first day.</p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p>“Why it not New York?”</p><p>“It greeeeen.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m curious too, you know. I thought we agreed not to let the kids out in the Mundy world yet,” Snow said pointedly, her arms folded defensively over her chest. Bigby tried to smile but it fell flat as he pried himself from the children and approached Snow, clasping her elbows in his hands.</p><p>“The witches have warded the place. No one is going to interrupt us. It’s safe, just like the Farm. We’re in upstate New York here too, about forty minutes from the Farm. This place is all ours.”</p><p>“You…wait, how did you get the witches to do that?”</p><p>“Um…”</p><p>“Bigby.”</p><p>“I’m going to help them out with a…few things.”</p><p>“You’re their <em>slave</em>?!”</p><p>“Not a slave. Just, contractually obliged to give them a few favours.”</p><p>“Bigby!”</p><p>“Snow, it’s fine, it was <em>worth it</em>. Let me just show you around, okay?”</p><p>Bigby drew her inside, herding the kids as he went. The house was large, as large as it needed to be with the eight (or nine) of them around the house. Eight bedrooms, two large living spaces, the biggest kitchen-diner you’ve ever seen, six bathrooms, including two en-suites and a games room.</p><p>But that wasn’t the important bit. The house was still impersonal and it would take work to feel like home. Most of the work had gone into the other building so with newfound confidence (brought mostly out of Snow’s slowly growing smile), he led the team up the hill and showed them the small chapel.</p><p>“Go inside.”</p><p>Snow walked ahead of him, treading carefully. “Bigby.”</p><p>“I thought, you know, you wanted a wedding venue. So I made our own.”</p><p>“This is amazing. It’s beautiful.”</p><p>“You like it?”</p><p>“I love it.” She turned to him, pecking him on the lips. “You’re amazing.”</p><p>Bigby smiled, kissing her back, much to the distaste of the kids. “So, how do you feel about a fall wedding?”</p><p>“Sounds perfect to me.”</p><p>“And the house?”</p><p>“Exactly what I’ve ever wanted.”</p><p>“You’ll move here?”</p><p>“You say it’s forty minutes from the Farm?”</p><p>“With a bit of traffic.”</p><p>“Then of course.”</p><p>They smiled at each other, the kids running amok in the church, as the sun beat down on them. All Bigby could think (words, of course, which would never quite reach his lips) was that Snow looked as beautiful as the first day he met her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I absolutely adore all comments: thoughts, critiques, random ranting! So feel free to leave something below 😁</p></blockquote></div></div>
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